


your type

by hogarth14



Series: just friends, not lovers [1]
Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: Best Friends, F/M, Gen, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 06:34:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28952037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hogarth14/pseuds/hogarth14
Summary: Sam's your best friend, and you're hopelessly in love with him. It's cliche and it's stupid, but you can't help it. Is it really okay to be in love with your best friend even though you know it might ruin things between you two?
Relationships: Samuel Drake/Reader
Series: just friends, not lovers [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2123562
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	your type

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not the type of girl you'd call more than a friend.
> 
> Hi! This is a two-part story. The first part takes place in the past, in 1989, while the second part will take place in the present day.

1989

You stared at your notebook covered in doodles as your history teacher, Mr. Phelps, talked on and on. A 90 minute class felt like three hours and you couldn't wait to just get out to see Sam. 

Your vision kept blacking out as you tried to stay awake, something Mr. Phelps noticed right away.

“It was ironic that the British Empire condemned pirates when they pillaged and stole more than those buccaneers ever have, isn't that right?” The old man was looking directly at you and you blinked yourself awake and nodded.

“Yup, I agree,” you tried to act like you were interested.

“Welcome back,” he laughed.

You sighed and slumped further into your chair. 3 o’clock couldn't come any sooner.

As soon as class ended, Mr. Phelps asked to talk to you and you gulped as you picked your backpack up and walked to his desk where he was looking through papers.

“I'm worried about you,” he slid a paper across to you and you picked it up and frowned at the F in red taunting you. 

“I'm gonna have to ask for a guardian or parent’s signature on this.”

“Really?” You sighed.

“I'm sorry, but it's just school policy,” Mr. Phelps shrugged. “Look, don't be afraid to ask questions, alright? I'm here to help.”

“Sure,” you pursed your lips and shoved your test paper into your bag.

Sam was lying on the grass in the park and reading a book when you found him, and you tilted your head to see what the book was. _Treasure Island_. Again.

“You know grass stains your jeans?” You nudged him with your Nike Cortez sneakers.

“Well look who the cat dragged in,” Sam gave you a lopsided grin as his brown eyes met yours.

You felt your cheeks burn and you quickly sat down next to him so you wouldn't have to face him. It was something you didn't want to admit, but you had a budding crush on Samuel Morgan, your cocky, way too ambitious best friend who was probably deranged.

“Fuck my life,” you groaned as you plopped down on the grass.

“I thought grass stains your jeans,” Sam tugged at your denim skirt.

“Fuck you,” you stuck your tongue out.

“Oof, cranky.”

“Sorry, it's just been such a shit day.”

“What happened?”

You pulled your test and put it on his chest. “That happened. Uncle Arthur’s going to skin me alive.”

Sam looked at the paper, and you almost thought he was going to laugh because he looked so amused, but instead he sat up.

“Let me help you,” he simply said.

“Help me?”

“Yeah! Like those tutor people.”

“What makes _you_ the history expert?” 

“My mom taught me, and pirates are kind of my thing. You know that,” this time it was Sam who nudged you with his worn out Chuck Taylors. “Come on, let me help you.”

“Fine, but can you do me a favour?” You propped yourself up on your elbows.

“Yeah, what is it?” Sam raised an eyebrow.

“Can you wait for me outside if Arthur decides to kick me out?”

It was a joke of course. Arthur wouldn't dare kick out his favourite -- and only -- niece. He did, however, lecture you about your priorities and banned TV for a month. As soon as you got to your room, you looked out your window and saw Sam smoking next to his red motorcycle.

You waved out a handkerchief to signify that things were good, and you could've sworn you heard Sam laugh before he drove away.

Sam’s apartment was actually a room he'd rented out in an older woman’s ( _she’s just a friend_ , Sam had said) home near the city. It had a bed in the corner with an _Indiana Jones_ poster above it and books piled on the wardrobe.

You sat on the floor, your back against the bed while you wrote the essay Mr. Phelps asked you to do while Sam read on his bed. Soft music played from somewhere outside and it was softly raining outside and all you wanted to do was lie down on the cool floor and take a nap.

“Done,” you announced as you finished your last sentence.

“Alright,” Sam plopped down in front of you, your knees touching. “Show me what you’ve done.”

Saying nothing, you held it out for him and buried your face between your knees. 

“Hmm,” Sam grunted. “I mean, you’ve certainly memorised what you needed, but…”

“But?” You peeked up at him and saw that he was sucking in his cheek.

“But _why_ was it important that pirates like Thomas Tew and Henry Avery pillaged the East India company?”

“For treasure?” You cocked your head to the side.

“Close, but you see, India’s economy dwarfed Europe’s at that time, and there weren’t any powerful navies in the Indian Ocean, which made a lot of the vessels there an easy target,” Sam explained, his hands flailing around as he talked. He did that a lot, and you thought it was kind of cute.

“Oh, alright,” you wrote what he was saying down on a piece of paper. “You make it a lot easier to understand than my stupid textbook.”

“Good to know,” Sam grinned. “If you get a good grade, I’ll take you out. My treat.”

Your face lit up. “Promise?”

“I promise. We’ll go anywhere… As long as I can afford it.”

“I’m holding you to that promise,” you stuck your tongue out.

It was quarter past nine when you were done rewriting your essay and Sam had fallen asleep. He was your ride home, but you figured if you walked fast enough you’d get home before 10 PM. You put your books away and looked at Sam who was gently snoring, his brown hair messy on his pillow.

He stirred when you covered him with a blanket, muttering something under his breath that you couldn’t really make out. 

“Good night, Sam,” you whispered as you turned off the light and stepped out.

  
  


Sam was waiting outside after school with a smug look on his face. You held up the paper as you approached him, doing a little victory dance before giving it to him.

“What can I say?” He shrugged. “I’m a wonderful tutor.”

“Oh please, you were asleep for most of it,” you jokingly punched him in the shoulder. 

“I think the A on this piece of paper makes your point moot.”

“Fine,” you giggled as you took your paper back and stuffed it back into your bag. “Where are you taking me then?”

Sam hopped onto his motorcycle and patted the seat behind him. “I dunno, it’s your choice.”

“Hmm,” you tapped your chin. “I’ve always wanted to go on a picnic.”

“Really?” Sam raised an eyebrow. “Alright. But what about food? It’s not a picnic without food.”

You ended up buying burgers and a small cake at a local diner and without a picnic blanket, you laid out a little lace handkerchief on the grass where Sam meticulously set the food. It looked a little ridiculous, but it was the best you both could have done with what little budget Sam had and at short notice too.

It was a cool evening and you happily ate your burgers while Sam blabbered on about Henry Avery. When he leaned back, his pinky touched yours and you froze, unsure if you wanted to move away or not. It was funny how just the tip of his finger touching yours made you feel hot and all you wanted to do was take his hand in yours. 

Sam kept talking, but you wondered if he noticed that you probably just stopped breathing. You read plenty of romance books, hell, you even ready _Forever_ by Judy Blume, but you never knew what it felt like to actually be in love. _No,_ you shook away the thoughts. _I can’t be in love with Sam… This is just infatuation. Nothing else._

You practically memorised him, the way he’d run his fingers through his unkempt hair, how he’d talk with his hands, how he’d bite his lip when he was upset. You saw him fall in and out of love with a variety of people, and you were always there for him. It was almost pathetic how much you knew about Sam Morgan, and you wondered if he memorised you the same way you did with him. 

Something cold dripped on your cheek and you looked up as rain started pattering down. 

“Oh shit,” you frantically picked the mostly eaten cake up while Sam picked up whatever was left of the burgers and the handkerchief and followed you to a gazebo nearby. 

“Well, that ruined a perfectly good picnic,” Sam had his hands on his hips. “Is the cake alright?”

You looked down at the soggy cake. “It had better days.”

Sam laughed before he stuck his paper cup into the cake to get another slice. 

“Really?” You looked up at him. 

“What?” He shrugged between bites. “It’s still a cake. It’s not like the rain is dirty or anything.”

“Are you sure about that?” 

“It’s fine,” Sam shrugged again. “Thanks for the picnic, by the way.”

“Nah, you paid for it.”

“But it was your idea. I haven’t been on a picnic since…”

Since his mom passed away. He suddenly looked forlorn.

“I know, Sam,” you reached out and touched his arm.

“Do you mind if I steal this picnic idea? Nathan might like this too,” he forced himself to smile. 

“Not at all. Tell him I say hi, alright?”

“Sure thing.”

The rain lasted long enough for Sam to mostly finish what was left of the cake and once the sky cleared up, he drove you home. 

“Thanks for helping me, by the way,” you smiled as you stood by his motorcycle. You could hear the sound of a TV blaring inside and you knew Arthur was probably waiting up. 

“That’s just what friends do, right?” Sam grinned. _Right. We’re just friends_. “I’ll see you on Monday?”

You nodded and watched him drive away. Arthur was fast asleep on the sofa while an old western played. You were always grateful he took you in when your mother ran off to Europe and your dad felt you were too much responsibility, but it made you sad Sam and Nathan didn’t have the same privilege.

You turned the TV off and placed your somewhat damp essay on the coffee table before going to your room.

  
  


_I don’t love him_. It was a lie you constantly told yourself. Believing it was getting harder every time you were with Sam and you could barely look him in the eyes without butterflies fluttering in your stomach. You tried to make yourself stop, but you just ended up thinking about him more. 

Your grades improved, much to Arthur’s delight and you hoped you could keep it up until after graduation at least. You applied to some colleges, but you were nervous with your mediocre grades and lack of extracurricular activities.

“And I can’t escape / I’m a slave to love…” Sam sang as he tossed a baseball up and down. He didn’t seem like it, but he was a pretty good singer. You were on the floor again doing your homework while he sang along to the song that was playing outside. 

“Is there a bar here or something?” You asked.

“Nah,” his brown eyes followed the baseball. “There’s this old man who plays music on his roof. The lady says it’s because he misses his wife or something.” He shrugged. “It’s not too bothersome. He has good taste.”

“I guess it’s better than Arthur’s loud westerns at home,” you muttered. “That’s sad though. He must have really loved his wife.”

“Yeah,” Sam simply shrugged. 

“What? You don’t think you’ll be an old man yearning for his spouse someday?”

“I don’t even think I’ll fall in love, to be honest,” he ran his fingers through his hair.

You laughed. _God, I hope you’re wrong_.

“What about you?” He nudged you with a socked foot.

“Gross, get your nasty socks away from me!” You shrieked, which made him push his foot against your back more. “Sam, stop, I swear you’re disgusting.”

“Come on,” he teased. “I bet you have a little crush. Was it Vicky? Whatever her name was? The one with the…” He gestured at his chest.

“No!” You grabbed a pillow and threw it at him. “Don’t be rude. Vix is just a good friend, and she’s dating some guy anyway.”

Sam gave you a smug grin. “Alright. Keep your secrets.”

It was quiet again while you went back to your homework, your heart pounding from the interaction. _What a bastard,_ you thought. _If he knew… If he knew I had a crush on him, this would all be over._ You didn’t want to think about what it would be like without Sam.

“I got this fancy letter for you from the University of Texas at San Antonio,” Arthur strolled into your room and handed you a letter. “You really wanna move that far away from your ol’ Uncle Arthur?”

“It’s a good university,” you stuck your tongue out as you tore open the envelope. “Please, please, please,” you whispered.

You barely read past the “Congratulations!” when you squealed and jumped out of bed. “I made it!”

“I’m so proud of you, baby,” Arthur embraced you. He looked at the letter then frowned. “Biology?”

“Yeah, I think I kinda wanna be a doctor someday,” you bit your nail. 

“And someday you will be,” he ruffled your hair. “Promise you’ll phone as much as you can, alright?”

“I’m still here, Uncle Arthur.”

“You’ve just grown up so fast,” he sighed. “What am I gonna do when you’ve gone off to be a doctor?”

“You could get a dog?”

“Huh,” he grunted. “Maybe.”

A week later, he came home with a puppy named John.  
  


As graduation loomed closer, you felt excited, but you were left with a melancholy feeling of having to leave Sam behind. He was his usual, oblivious self, but you wanted to do it. You wanted to tell him before you left. 

It was getting warmer again, so it was different to see Sam without a jacket on as he squatted on the pier, skipping rocks in the river. It seemed like there was something on his mind and he didn’t even notice you coming up to squat next to him. With a flick of his wrist, he sent a rock skipping far.

“Nice,” you said and he looked at you in surprise.

“Oh, hey,” he gave a weak grin. “Didn’t know you were here already.”

“Yeah, you seem busy.”

“Nah, just got a new job out of state.”

“You're leaving?” You felt your heart drop.

“In the fall, yeah, but not for long I hope.”

Sam fell silent, and you felt your heart beat quickly in your chest. Was this the right time? You were graduating in a few weeks, then you were off to San Antonio, unsure when you were ever going to see Sam again.

“Sam,” your voice was weak and he hummed in response. “I–I have something to tell you.”

“Yeah? What's that?” He looked worried when he turned to you.

“I could tell you anything, right? Promise you won't laugh?” Your cheeks flushed and you felt like your heart was gonna leap out of your chest. _What am I doing?_

“I won't laugh.”

 _At three,_ you took a deep breath. _One... two…_

“Sam, I like you,” you blurted out. “No, I think I'm in love with you.”

His expression softened at your words.

“I'm sorry, I tried my best not to let it get to me, but we're parting soon and I just thought–”

“I've always known,” Sam interrupted.

“What?”

“That you have a crush on me.”

“Oh.”

“I didn't wanna say anything because this is the best friendship I've ever had, and I don't wanna ruin what we have. We're great like this.”

 _Oh_.

_Best friendship._

The butterflies in your stomach turned into moths and you wanted to vomit. A lump in your throat grew and you held your breath. The last thing you wanted to do was to cry in front of Sam.

“I'm sorry,” you looked down at your feet.

“Hey,” he lightly nudged you. “We'll always be close. I'll write to wherever you are in the world. I promise.”

“Alright,” you nodded weakly. “Thanks, Sam.”

“Bring it in,” he held out his arms and you leaned into his embrace, trying not to sob into his shoulder.

You spent the night crying while you packed your bags, deciding not to bring anything that reminded you of Sam to college with you. You had to get over him.

Your chest felt heavy as you felt your heart break with every stupid lovesong that came on the radio. Why did you even bother confessing, of course Sam wouldn't be into you. Why would you even want to ruin your friendship like that?

The day you had to leave for the airport, Sam was at your window early in the morning.

“Mornin’, college student,” he smiled as he climbed into your room.

“I thought you were going to see me off at the airport,” you yawned.

“Just thought we could spend a bit more time together,” he looked around your now empty room. “Wow. You're really leaving.”

“Yeah,” you sighed. “San Antonio, here I come.”

Sam didn't react, instead he turned back to look at you, his brown eyes scanning your face. “Hey listen, uh, a few weeks ago… I'm sorry about that.”

“Oh,” you sat on your bed. “No, it's fine. You're right, we're great friends.”

“I didn't mean to break your heart or anything.”

“I completely understand, Sam.”

He reached into his pocket and asked for your hand. There he placed a little medallion with a star engraved on it. It looked more like a little coin with a chain pierced through it.

“Here, it's a late graduation gift. I couldn't get out of work to buy it early enough, but I made it just in time last night.”

“Sam, this is beautiful,” you gasped. You made your way to the vanity and put the necklace on. 

“It's just so you won't forget me, the most amazing friend you could ever ask for,” he looked smug.

“And it was such a sweet moment too,” you shook your head. “Thanks, Sam. I don't think I can ever forget you.”

You hugged him, feeling his arms around you tightly. At the moment, you felt your heart break, suddenly missing someone who was right in front of you. Your tears flowed, and you buried your face into his shirt as he soothed you.

“Promise we'll see each other next summer?”

“Promise.”

“Promise you'll write and call?”

“I promise.”

But Samuel Morgan was gone by the next summer.


End file.
